


Hilt

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/F, PWP, Pervertibles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-19
Updated: 2012-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-12 12:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/490838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen and Morgana find a new use for a sword hilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hilt

Gwen has her fingers buried in Morgana, practically her whole hand, and _still_ Morgana is moaning, "More."

"That's all the fingers I have," Gwen says, pushing them in as far as they'll go. Morgana arches and moans.

" _Please_ , Gwen," she whimpers. Gwen fucks her harder with her fingers, biting her lip and squirming against the sheets.

The frustrating thing about sleeping with Morgana is that Gwen doesn't have a cock, and trying to substitute with other parts of her body has so far not been enough. It's not that Morgana doesn't _like_ being fucked with fingers or tongue — she _loves_ it — but she always begs for _more_ , longer, thicker. Gwen's working on finding an artificial substitute, but it's taking a while.

Morgana comes around her fingers, shuddering, and Gwen pulls her close. "My lady," she says, realising she's shaking, "if — if you would —"

"In a moment," Morgana says, and kisses her. Gwen kisses her _deeply_ , desperate, and once Morgana's stopped trembling she turns Gwen over onto her back and starts kissing her way down her body.

Gwen's helping her dad out at the smithy the next afternoon when the light catches the hilt of one of the swords and she suddenly notices how particular a shape the grip is. She pulls it out of the stand and holds it, feeling the weight in her hand, the leather wrapped around the shaft. There's a pommel at the top of it, delicately rounded, just the right width to be almost too much.

She sneaks it out of the smithy that night, wrapped in a cloth, and takes it to Morgana's chambers. "Is it a present?" Morgana asks, her eyes shining when she sees what it is. "A _sword_ , oh, Gwen. Thank you."

"It's actually, um, a loan." Thinking about what she wants to do with it, however, Gwen thinks about making another to replace it, if she could do it without her father noticing. "Maybe. I was thinking we might use this." Keeping the blade firmly in its sheath, she shows Morgana the hilt.

Morgana's eyes widen. "Gwen," she says, sounding a little awed. "You are the best lover in _history_. There should be songs about it."

"I do try," Gwen says, face hot.

She holds the sword steady with both hands, Morgana naked under her, and carefully, slowly, pushes in. The pommel makes Morgana gasp and arch. Gwen stops. "Are you all right, my lady?"

"Yes," Morgana says, voice strained. "Oh, that feels so _good_."

Gwen pushes it further in, little by little. Morgana moans and sighs, arching and rolling her hips, until it's fully in her. "Gwen," she says, half a sob, and Gwen slowly pulls it out and back in again. Her thrusts are gentle, mindful that the pommel is likely stretching her. Morgana starts shaking as she writhes, muffling her cries in her arm, wordless delicious sounds that Gwen wants to hear from her again.

Morgana comes hard, yelling into a pillow, and it's several minutes before she can move once Gwen's taken the hilt out. When she does, she moves down Gwen's body, kissing over the skin but not lingering, until her tongue reaches Gwen's clit.

She's skilled, so beautifully skilled, after all the hours they've spent on each other's tongues, and Gwen comes quickly. Morgana knows exactly how to circle with the tip of her tongue, how much pressure to apply.

Gwen's legs are still shaking when Morgana curls up next to her. "Mmmmm," she says, stretching languidly. "We are going to do that again."

"Yes, my lady," Gwen says, and kisses her hair.


End file.
